Muddy Bloody Games
by arthemys
Summary: A dying boy rescued by a huntress. He wasn't meant to survive. But the huntress dies for him. What is left for the boy whith the bread, except a rebellion brewing? Canon-divergent. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Confusion. Pain. Horror. Regret. These are the most powerful emotions racking through me as I painfully make my way to the river. My leg is bleeding profusely, my mind is confused from the tracker jacker venom, and I know I don't have much time until I bleed to death or lose my head completely. I need shelter and security, and fast. As I stumble upon some rocks, I leave a stain of blood across a boulder. I hastily wipe it with my hand, but it only seems useless. I might as well let myself be discovered so one of my opponents can finish me off. The pain would stop, then.

I stumble and fall once, twice, again and again until I can't get up anymore. I'm on the soft muddy bank of the river, near some huge rocks. I just can't go further. This is the place where I will die. Not a bad one altogether. But I won't make it so easy. While I still have some sanity, I hastily scramble around me, gathering mud and weeds and covering my legs. Then I paint my face and arms, camouflaging myself as best I can. Lastly I cover my torso, hair and neck, and I'm done. All that's left for me now are my pain and my colorful nightmares.

When I wake up from a long psychedelic nightmare, during which every single person I love has been tortured to death a dozen times, above all Katniss slowly mangled and stabbed by Cato, I'm only conscious of one thing. Pain. So intense and vivid I want to scream. Maybe Haymitch, seeing my precarious situation, will send me something to cure the wound. Maybe not. We made a pact, after all. I urged him to protect Katniss at all costs, even at my own expense. And now that I saved her for now, I could die in peace, sort of. I know the mud I covered myself with will act as a thick bandage, prolonging my agony. But surely some infection will settle, and I'll be done for very soon. Right. Doesn't matter anymore. I wasn't meant to survive those horrid Games.

The thoughts swirl in my exhausted mind. Memories flashing in front of my closed eyelids. I strain to keep conscious, as my energy fades away. I try to remember the path I took until this moment. When did it start? And suddenly I know when all of it started. When I took the worst decision in my short life. I remember it so clearly now.

It was the night after the private session with the jury, when I got an eight and Katniss an eleven, the best score given for a tribute this year. While our team congratulated Katniss for her outstanding score, I stayed impassive, thinking hard. Now she had just become the primary target for all the tributes, and above all the Careers. I could see Haymitch knew it too. We exchanged a glance, and I saw his question. I nodded. He would go find the Careers' mentors and ask them for me to join them. To protect Katniss as best I could. Worst decision ever.

We had discussed this strategy beforehand. I had found the idea of joining the Careers despicable, revolting, but Haymitch had swept away my reluctance by assuring me that if I joined them, I could undermine their attempts at finding and/or killing the girl I loved. And I'd given in. I had to protect her, I just had to. She means so much to me, my life isn't worth living if she disappears. I know she doesn't share my feelings, but maybe she'll remember me sometimes, when she comes back to District 12. I know she can win, and she will. So I wouldn't die in vain.

As the night slowly settles in, I remember my time with the Careers. The moment I joined them near the Cornucopia after the bloodbath, Cato welcoming me reluctantly, Clove's sneer. I knew they would turn on me at first occasion, but I also knew they needed me. They knew I was in love with Katniss, so they thought I would find her for them. Idiots. Like I was giving away the best thing that happened in my life. Tough luck.

It wasn't an easy cooperation. I had a place among the Careers, but not really with them. I sat and slept at a careful distance from them, especially Cato, who was brutal and feral. A real madman. He was so cruel. I hated myself when I finished off the girl from 8, but at least I did it fast, painlessly. And then we were hounding Katniss. To my intense dismay, she was badly wounded. Burned, by the looks of it. I could only do so much to protect her as night fell. I just wanted some time to come up with a plan to save her. But she was up a tree, wounded and weaponless, and there were five ferocious Careers around me eager to take her down not so nicely.

I stayed awake all night, faking sleep, building up schemes, stealing glances above me to see if she was okay, burning inside at my uselessness. And then, just before dawn, the tracker jacker nest exploded at our feet. I knew it was Katniss, only she was up a tree above us. Even wounded, she had found this means to save herself, the ultimate survivor. I ran for my life, not caring about the Careers behind me, until I could submerge into the lake. Cato, Marvel and the boy from district 3 did the same, and the tracker jackers drowned trying to pursue us. I got hit four times, I think, but I was still in control. I waited until I couldn't hold my breath anymore, and I carefully broke the surface. No tracker jackers alive left.

I hauled myself up the bank of the lake, next to Cato. He was furious, smoldering with rage. Even stung, he wanted nothing but Katniss' head. I couldn't let that happen. So I took off, not caring for the others behind me, and ran flat out to the nest. I outdistanced the Careers, and a good thing it was. Because Katniss was still there next to Glimmer's horrifying body, trying to ready the bow with an arrow she couldn't throw. I urged her on her feet, had her fleeing before I could turn on Cato.

He showed no mercy. I tried to delay him, give Katniss enough time to run away, but I was worried. She had been stung too, and she was obviously in a daze. But I did my best, silently thanking my sparring partner at the swordplay station. Thanks to him, I was able to fight for a good five minutes with Cato. And then he jabbed at my thigh and wounded me. He could've finished me then, but I think he saw it a good reward seeing me left to die a slow and painful death.

As I shiver in my mud cocoon, the sun setting in my left, I hear the anthem played above me. I dimly wonder how many days I spent in my hellish dreamland, and suddenly I'm afraid. Is Katniss alive? Is she okay? Did Cato killed her after all? No, I can't stand it. I have to believe she made it and is okay. Otherwise I can't die in peace, and dying is all that's left for me.

The seal is up in the sky, and then the pictures. The boy from District 3. Cato killed him, I'd bet anything. The boy from District 10. And the seal again. I exhale loudly. She didn't die today. Hoping that I didn't miss her death in my confusion days, I close my eyes and settle myself for a long painful night.

When I wake up, I feel awful. The sun is shining brightly like it's midday. Under my mud blanket I'm shivering, and I'm thirsty. My throat is parched dry. I can feel the fever burning me. With difficulty I scoop a few handfuls of rain water in a hole in the nearest boulder, but it can't staunch my thirst. I arrange my camouflage so I'm totally invisible now, or so I think, and I wait for something to happen. For the fever to burn me, for the bleeding to drain me, for some tribute to find and kill me. But most of all, I'm waiting for Katniss. To just see her one more time. To tell her all these things I never had the nerve to tell her before, when we were back in District 12 with our lives before us. How I regret now not having had the nerve to simply talk to her when I still had the chance!

I doze off most of the afternoon, only to be awaken by the anthem playing loudly. And then I can't believe my eyes: Marvel, the boy from District 1, one of the Careers, is dead! And the small girl from 11, Rue. Seeing her childish face makes me depressed. She didn't deserve such a fate. These Hunger Games are plain horrible. What did the districts do seventy-four years ago to earn such a punishment every single year? Surely the debt has long been paid since then?

I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember waking the next morning. All is blurring around me, and I'm shivering worse than ever. I can feel the heat consuming me, and I'm ready to bet the fever will win the race of which means will kill me first. I reach around for my small puddle of rain water, but it only contains two handfuls of water. Maybe I'll die of dehydration after all, even if my mud blanket shelters me from the shining sun.

I doze off again, only to be awaken by some loud trumpets. A serious announcement is coming. "Congratulations for the six tributes who are still alive! You've done very well so far!" Claudius Templesmith says joyfully.

But it's for the still fit tributes, obviously, not me. I'm preparing to sink into sleep when the voice says something completely unexpected. "It's my pleasure to announce that this year, there's been a rule change in the Games. Under this brand new rule, both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive! I repeat, under this new rule,both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive!"

The booming voice echoes one more time off the rocks, then fades into the setting sun. The news aren't so great for me. If Katniss is alive, and I'm sure she is, she won't have anybody to be declared winner with soon. I'm not getting out of this arena alive. And Haymitch knows it quite well, since he hasn't sent me anything to help me, not even water. So better write myself off sooner than later.

I fall into a stupor. Above me the moon rises and fades and the sun rises again. The world around me is blurry, misty, not quite real anymore. I don't care. Maybe this means I'll die soon. I can't wait. This long agony is plain torture. I wish...

And then I hear a faint whisper. My name. "Peeta. Peeta." Katniss' voice. I couldn't be mistaken. She's looking for me. _She's looking for me!_ I don't dare take my hopes up, but maybe I'll be able to tell her how much I love her. I so want to see her!

As I hear a quiet splashing sound, I muster my last strength. "You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" I want to tell her that it's me, not another tribute, speaking, and with this I know she'll think of Haymitch.

A pause, then her voice rises again, a little louder this time. "Peeta? Where are you? Peeta?"

She can't see me, then. The huntress, fooled by the baking boy frosting cakes. If I wasn't dying, the thought would make me laugh out loud. I can hear her now very close, feel her light tread next to my head. I don't want her to put her dirty boot upon my face. "Well, don't step on me."

She takes a step back, and I finally open my eyes. Her gasp, the look of utter astonishment on her weary face and the pleasure I feel about seeing her are enough to make me laugh.

She gulps, and then takes a deep breath, regaining composure. "Close your eyes again," she says. I oblige. I know she's probably admiring my work. Not bad for an almost dead baker, then.

"I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off." Her voice is nearer now, but I'm so happy my eyes can't open. The relief at having her at my side is so intense I want to cry, so I fight the tears down. She can't see me weep, nor Panem. Never. I must face death like a strong man. But I smile. "Yes, frosting. The final defence of the dying."

"You're not going to die", she says firmly. I want to laugh again. How silly. Of course I'm going to die.

"Says who?" I exhale. I have to make her understand. I'm not going to survive, period. She can't do anything for me except spend some time with me before I die, which is really all I can ask of her.

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know."

I finally open my eyes. She's looking at me fiercely, as if ordering me to stay alive by sheer willpower. I don't want my hopes up, but I can take things lightly for her sake, so I try some teasing. "So I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me."

She dugs in her duffel bag and offers me a water bottle. The cool liquid tastes wonderfully in my dry throat, and I take long gulps.

"Did Cato cut you?" she asks me seriously.

"Left leg. Up high." I sigh.

"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got."

Uh-oh. Bad idea. That doesn't sound great right now. All I want is stay in my mud case and wait patiently for my death, preferably with Katniss at my side, holding my hand. But I kind of know the stubborn expression she's wearing right now. Nothing will be able to deter her now. And I really can die in the process, I realize.

I have to make her understand that I really love her, and also keep the romantic pretence for the cameras. So I say "Lean down a minute first. Need to tell you something." She complies, and I murmur in her ear "Remember, we're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me any time you feel like it."

She's surprised, I think, but she laughs all the same. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind."

And then the true torture begins. She tugs at me, tries to free me from my muddy gauge, but it's so painful I can't help the tears sliding down my cheeks. I grit my teeth hard, but I can't help moans of pain escaping now and then either. Suddenly she frees me, and all I want is to pass out so I can escape the horrible pain.

She looks apologetic. "Look, Peeta, I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, OK?"

"Excellent", I grunt, half ironic. I know I'm much too heavy for her to carry, but the exertion of this will possibly kill me, not mentioning the fact that I can't swim and am rather terrified of running water where I can drown.

"On three", she says. I brace myself as best I could, ignoring the terror gripping my guts. "One, two, three!"

She has me rolling only once, but it's enough for enormous jolts of pain from my aching thigh to shot throughout all my body, and this time I can't help the cry escaping my lips. It's plain excruciating, and I can't take anymore. One look at Katniss tells me she's decided to stop the torture, and that's a small relief.

"OK, change of plans. I'm not going to put you all the way in."

"No more rolling?" I ask, just to be sure.

"That's all done", she confirms with a half-smile etched on her mesmerizing face. "Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, OK?"

I want to laugh at her silly request. I can barely keep my eyes open, much less survey our surroundings. And she would certainly be alerted by sound long before any sign I could see if we were to be attacked. But I do my best, knowing that I would do all I can to have her back and protect her.

She starts pouring water bottle after water bottle on my body to clear away the mud on me. It takes quite a while, and while I'm grateful the cold water doesn't make me shiver, I know it's the fever running high in me that keeps my body from falling into hypothermia.

At long last she sighs, her eyebrows knitting, concentating on removing my upper clothes, propping me up against a rock and washing the filth away from my hair and face. Feeling her fingers on me is like heaven, and I'm so exhausted the bliss could just send me over the edge of sleep. But then she removes the tracker jacker stings, and that's no fun. But I immediately feel better as she applies chewed leaves on the sting marks, though at first I found the process quite gross.

Then she washes my clothes in the stream. I never realized what an intimate gesture it was. Of course, my mother wouldn't sink so low as washing our things herself, always hiring some Seam woman to do it, so I wouldn't know. But seeing Katniss wash my filthy clothes, the very things that I wore, ran in, fought in, killed in, sweated in, cried in, felt despair and pain in, seems like she's staring at my whole life, my whole being, all of my feelings. Which in a way she does as she's doing her best to help me, even if I can see she's not exactly comfortable with the whole thing.

Then she puts some thick paste on the burn on my chest I sustained while trying to break a fight between Clove and Glimmer over a boiling pan of water. The relief is instantaneous, like the chewed leaves, and I can tell this cream from the Capitol will just work wonders. A gift from Haymitch, maybe. It surely wasn't inside the backpack she grabbed at the Cornucopia so many days ago.

Her face is suddenly much more serious, and I can tell from the way her hand feels my skin that she knows about the fever burning me. She dives into her duffel bag again and hands me small pills. "Swallow these", she orders. I do as I'm told.

"You must be hungry", she says. Weird enough, I didn't realize before I hadn't eaten in who knew how much days. I shake my head, answering honestly. "Not really. It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days."

I watch as she takes out some kind of meat, but just the smell makes my stomach churn unpleasantly, so I turn away in disgust. I hear her beautiful, musical voice next to me again. "Peeta, we need to get some food in you."

"It'll just come right back up", I say, my eyes drooping. I'm so tired, and so in pain I want to pass out. Finally, after rummaging in her backpack yet again, she brings out some slices of dried apple. I don't want to, but she coaxes me into eating them, and I have to admit I can use some food into my drained system.

"Thanks", I say, exhaustion engulfing me at alarming pace. "I'm much better, really. Can I sleep now, Katniss?"

She eyes me warily, looking almost scared for a fraction of a second before regaining her reassuring expression. "Soon. I need to look at your leg first."

Oh my. I don't think it a so great idea, and apparently Katniss isn't all okay with it either. But she and I know she's my only hope, if there is any at all. So she takes a deep breath, gently removes my boots, socks and pants, and then we can assess the damage. A swelled, foul-smelling, evil-looking mess of a gash in my thigh. Raising my gaze, I can see her recoil a little, panic fleeting in her eyes, before she plants herself firmly on her knees at my side, resolution on her face.

"Pretty awful, huh?" I say as matter-of-factly as I can. She gulps, then shrugs, trying to assume a casual stance that is all pretence and zero percent genuine.

"So-so. You should see some of the people they bring my mother from the mines. First thing is to clean it well."

And so she does, pouring more water on my leg, treating the burns and the tracker jacker sting. But the wound worries and unsettles her, it's quite obvious. "Why don't we give it some air and then..." She trails off, utterly destabilized. I pity her. She's a huntress, not a healer.

"And then you'll patch it up?" I ask, coming to her rescue.

"That's right", she acknowledges, looking a little relieved. "In the meantime, you eat these."

She hands me some dried pears, and though they taste like cardboard in my still parched mouth, I obediently swallow them as she washes the rest of my clothes, then dig in her first-aid kit. She comes up empty and looking distressed, but she quickly knits her eyebrows, thinking hard.

"We're going to have to experiment some", she says. I nod in approval. Nothing she'll come up with would make me worse, since I'm already slowly dying.

She chews some leaves again and apply them into the gash. I quickly stop looking at the revolting pus oozing from the wound, and concentrate instead on Katniss. She's pale, her olive skin even almost green, and she looks on the verge of fainting. But she stays at my side nonetheless, of which I'm immensely grateful. She could leave me here after all, since there's no hope for me, and go win the Games alone. But she's here, against her primary instincts, for me. At this moment, I think I've never been so much in love with her in my whole life.

I muster my courage again. "Katniss?" I call her out then mouth, half-kidding, half-serious. "How about that kiss?"

She bursts out laughing, a slight note of hysteria in her laughter, and I think she realizes I know about her wanting to bolt away in terror. So I keep a light tone, I want to make things easier for her. "Something wrong?"

She sighs deeply, a scowl forming on her eyebrows. "I… I'm not good at this", she finally admits. "I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus."

She groans then, and I shoot a look at the wound. Not a pretty sign at all, but the pain is decreasing a little, and it looks a little bit better already. She changes the leaves, and for an instant I'm afraid she's really going to faint. So I ask playfully again. "How do you hunt?"

She shoots me a dirty look, the green receding on her face. "Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this. Although for all I know, I'm killing you."

She's so wrong, but she still looks ill-at-ease. I don't want her to doubt her kind gesture. "Can you speed it up a little?"

A shadow of a smile flickers on her lips, but she stays focused, looking better now. "No. Shut up and eat your pears."

Again, I do as I'm told while she does her thing with the leaves. The wound is very deep, right to the bone, and I know I won't be going anywhere. I'm a liability to her, but I'm so happy she's here with me! So I let her tend to me, not wanting to spoil my last moments with her.

At last she exhales softly, and I see the pus has stopped oozing. "What next, Dr Everdeen?" I ask lightly, fighting the growing urge to sleep.

"Maybe I'll put some of the burn ointment on it", she answers, frowning in concentation. "I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?"

I cringe as she applies the cream, pain flaring up again, but soon my thigh is tightly bandaged. I can see her eyeing my underwear with disgust, I know they're quite filthy too. She takes out a small backpack from her duffel bag and hands it to me. "Here, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts."

Oh, that's too tempting! I don't want to miss what fun's left for me. I grin widely at her wary expression. "Oh, I don't care if you see me."

She pouts, looking so ill-at-ease I have to fight back a fit of giggles. "You're just like the rest of my family. I care, all right?"

She turns her back on me, and painfully I wiggle out of my shorts, covering myself and throwing the thing in the stream next to her. That's what I love with Katniss. Even in an arena where she can die in an instant, she remains herself, pure and straight-minded. I wish I had her courage, her certainty. Above all, I wish she will be here until the end.

I feel so good with her at my side. I don't want to spoil things, and I want to keep her talking to me, so I go on teasing her. "You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person. I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all."

She finishes the laundry and makes a disgusted face. "What's he sent you so far?" she asks.

"Not a thing", I answer easily. Then I see her guilty expression, and I realize I was right. He chose her. I ask nevertheless, already knowing the answer. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine", she admits, looking guiltier still. "Oh, and some bread."

I feel a little bit bitter, but mostly I'm relieved. Haymitch is keeping his word. He's doing all he can for Katniss, and that's fine by me. "I always knew you were his favourite."

"Please", she huffs, rolling her eyes as she comes back and settles next to me. "He can't stand being in the same room with me."

"Because you're just alike", I murmur, exhaustion and pain finally winning against my will. I fall into sleep, an easier one as I know she's watching over me. After what feels like ten seconds, she shakes me awake. "Peeta, we've got to go now."

"Go?" I ask uncertainly, still exhausted and shivering from the fever still burning me. "Go where?"

"Away from here", she says, looking carefully around us. I can see she's not at ease being in the open. "Downstream, maybe. Somewhere we can hide you until you're stronger."

I want to snort derisively. Somewhere to snuff it out, more like. But I don't complain as she helps me getting dressed in my much cleaner clothes and then hoists me on my bare feet. I feel dizzy and sick, but I really want to pass out as I try my weight on my injured leg.

"Come on. You can do this", she says gently, supporting most of my weight. I know she's much smaller than me, but she's strong, and she half-carries me in the shallow stream. But my head swims badly, my knees buckle and after about fifty metres it's all I can do not falling headfirst in the running water. She sets me down on the bank, put my head between my knees, gently pats my shoulder, and it helps a little.

But I feel so weak. I'm about to suggest she leaves me here when she asks me if I can get up. I nod, gathering my last bits of strength, and she hauls me on my feet again. We leave the stream, and I can vaguely outline the rocks ahead of us, forming what looks like the entrance to a cave. My sight is blurring fast, I'm panting from the efforts and the pain, but we make it inside.

As I sit on a rock she hastily gathers pine needles and arranges them carpet-like on the floor, and she extracts a sleeping bag from her backpack. Then she helps me in, and I lie down with a groan. I swallow some water she makes me drink, but I'm too tired and nauseated to eat anything.

I want to sleep badly again, but I resist. In a blur, I watch Katniss make a curtain of vines at the mouth of the cave, but she seems dissatisfied with it because she tears it down as soon as she's finished. I want to tell her. I _have to tell her_, before it's too late. I feel like I don't have much time left.

"Katniss?" I call out. In an instant she's by my side, and she gently pushes my hair away from my eyes. She's so beautiful, and her mesmerizing grey eyes are so worried under her confident attitude. She's everything for me, always have been. And now she's everything I have left. I have to tell her. "Thanks for finding me."

"You would have found me if you could", she says softly, anxiety swirling in her gaze.

"Yes", I acknowledge. "Look, if I don't make it back-"

"Don't talk like that", she cuts me abruptly, looking severe. "I didn't drain all that pus for nothing."

"I know. But just in case I don't-"

Again she cuts me, a fierce expression on her tight features, trying to silence me with her fingers on my lips. "No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it."

But I have to tell her, it's too important for me! I'm fading away, I just feel it. She must know! "But I-"

Abruptly she swoops down on me, and she presses her lips on mine. At first I feel only surprise, but then joy erupts in me in a huge geyser. Even if I don't feel well at all, this first kiss tastes like heaven. Her lips are so soft and warm, I don't ever want to break away from her.

But she does, and arranges the sleeping bag around me. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?"

She's bending over me, a silver mist surrounding her, and I feel my eyes shut in spite of myself. I relent before her decided expression. "All right."

I doze off, only to be awaken by another kiss. I'm so surprised my eyes snap open and I feel astonished at first, but then the joy is back. She's sharing some of my feelings, and that's just great. A huge amount of comfort in this terrible ordeal.

She's holding something in her hand, and she shows it to me. "Peeta, look what Haymitch has sent you."

It's some kind of soup. I don't want to eat it, really, even if Haymitch's gesture comforts me, but I don't feel well. I just want to lie down, by Katniss' side, preferably kissing her some more again. But this time she's not taking no for an answer. So I gulp down the broth little bit after little bit, and I even manage to get kissed some more.

As I finally empty the pot, she smiles at me and brushes the tips of her fingers on my burning cheek. For the first time in my life, I feel I'm loved a little, that I'm somebody someone cares for. And that's a wonderful feeling I'll carry to the grave with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** **Hi everyone! Back with a new story! Originally I wanted to express Peeta's point of view during the time in the cave in the First Hunger Games in a one-shot, but as I was writing some other ideas came nagging me, so it'll be a longer story! Hope you enjoy it and please review!**

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Chapter 2

When I wake up, sunlight comes down brilliantly, illuminating the entrance of the cave. As I sit up, still feeling weaker than ever and dizzy from the pain in my thigh, I immediately know that I'm alone in there. I check in every corner of the cave to be sure, but Katniss isn't here. Apart from her weapons, all her things are still there. This means she didn't leave me. But where is she?

A horrible thought occurs to me then. What if Cato and Clove found her and killed her? A chill runs down my spine, and this time it has nothing to do with fever. Fear grips my guts, a sudden anguish rushing through all my soul, making me want to vomit in horror.

_ She can't be dead_, I tell myself firmly, breathing deeply to fight back the nausea and trying to get a grip on my frayed nerves. _I'll find her and protect her._

As I try to get to my feet, she suddenly appears at the mouth of the cave, holding the small pot. Intense relief washes over me, and I breathe deeply again to steady my voice, not wanting to sound too worried. She's here with me, safe and sound, that's all that matters. "I woke up and you were gone. I was worried about you."

She sets the pot on the ground and gently helps me lie down again. My head is still swimming a little, but I focus on her tight features. She looks exhausted, I can see she didn't sleep last night, keeping watch over us. But she laughs softly, the beautiful sound resonating in the cave.

"You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?"

But I was too worried, her light tone doesn't alleviate my anxiety. "I thought Cato and Clove might have found you. They like to hunt at night."

"Clove? Which one is that?" she asks, puzzled.

"The girl from District 2. She's still alive, right?"

"Yes", she confirms with a nod. "There's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface. That's what I nicknamed the girl from 5. How do you feel?"

"Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud. Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag... and you."

My voice trails off because I'm not completely sure that what happened yesterday isn't a dream created by a delirious fever. I want it to be real so much! But I can't be sure. I wait for a sign from her. I _hope_ it really happened.

That's when she puts her hand on my cheek. I'm so relieved and happy I have to shut my eyes tight for an instant, fighting the tears down, and then I bring her hand to my lips, kissing it reverently. Even if our brand new relationship blossoms in a cave of the arena where I'll most probably die in a few hours or days, right now I'm the happiest man of Panem.

She smiles and takes her hand back, offering me the pot. "No more kisses for you until you've eaten."

She props me up against a rock and feeds me some mashed berries. That tastes all right, but when she offers me meat again, I decline, for fear of giving back up everything I managed to gulp down. She clears everything away, and I can see more than ever her utter exhaustion. "You didn't sleep", I state matter-of-factly.

"I'm all right", she lies, hardly stifling a yawn.

"Sleep now", I order her, feeling better and more rested than since I got hurt by Cato. "I'll keep watch. I'll wake you if anything happens. Katniss", I insist when she hesitates, "you can't stay up forever."

"All right", she relents after a few seconds. "But just for a few hours. Then you wake me."

She settles on the pine needles and the stretched sleeping bag beside me, her bow still clutched in her hand. I'm sitting up against the wall of rock, as comfortable as I can get with my aching thigh, and her head is just a few centimetres away from my hand.

"Go to sleep", I tell her softly. Without thinking about it too much, I brush the loose strands of hair off her forehead. At first, I think she'll recoil at my touch, maybe tell me off, but she doesn't react. And after a minute or two, she even falls asleep with me still caressing her hair. What a show of trust, I think. I never would've thought she could be so relaxed under my touch. It makes me happy. So much happy.

I stand guard for hours, but mostly I watch her sleep. She's peaceful and stunningly beautiful when asleep, her face smoother, not wearing the scowling mask she has most of the time on her otherwise gracious features. She looks better, and I can't bring myself to disturbing her rest. So it's well into the afternoon when she wakes, looking disoriented but better.

"Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours", she says reproachfully, sitting up next to me.

"What for?" I shrug. "Nothing's going on here. Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your looks a lot."

Of course she scowls at me, and I can't help grinning in return. Then she makes me drink and starts treating my bruises, stings and small wounds. But when I lie down and she removes the bandages on my thigh, her face falls in dismay. I glance at it and recognize the red streaks on my leg, the swelled wound. Blood poisoning. I'd be dead in two, maybe three days at the latest.

She takes a deep breath. "Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone", she says with a slightly trembling voice, failing to sound upbeat.

I suppress a sigh. She's trying to be strong for my sake. Maybe telling her how much I love her would be a huge mistake. I'm going to die and she or I can't do anything about it. But I have to be strong for both of us. Until the end.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss. Even if my mother isn't a healer."

She looks really distressed. "You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta. They'll cure it back at the Capitol when we win."

I don't want to crush her, since she looks on the verge of a panic attack, so I try to reassure her. "Yes, that's a good plan."

"You have to eat", she says, rummaging in her duffel bag and extracting the pot, looking fierce again, as if daring death to come for me. "Keep you strength up. I'm going to make you soup."

"Don't light a fire", I warn her, afraid she might attract the remaining Careers. "It's not worth it."

"We'll see", she says stubbornly, exiting the cave.

I wait as patiently as I can for what seems like hours, uneasy about letting her out of my sight in this danger-filled arena. I can feel the fever reaching summits again, and my thigh aches worse than ever. I want to get up and go looking for her, but I have no strength left. So I lie on top of the sleeping bag, trying to make peace with myself and all the people that mattered for me.

When she returns, I feel I can breathe deeper, the anxious knot tying my stomach loosens. But I'm shaking like a leaf, and in spite of the wet cloths she put on my forefront, the fever doesn't back down.

"Do you want anything?", she asks, looking helpless.

I just want you by my side, I want to say aloud. The need of her here for my last moments screaming in my dizzy brain. "No", I simply say. "Thank you."

And then something occurs to me. "Wait, yes. Tell me a story."

"A story?" she asks incredulously. "What about?"

"Something happy. Tell me about the happiest day you can remember."

Yes, that's what I need. Something happy to divert my thoughts from my impending death. Something happy that happened to her that she would share with me, making me closer to her usually secluded self. She doesn't seem thrilled about it, but after a little sigh she starts.

"Did I ever tell you about how I got Prim's goat?"

I shake my head and wait for her to start. She obliges, a small frown on her features as she tells me the story. I listen to her, spell-bound. She doesn't speak often but when she does, her musical voice is compelling, just like when she sings. I just can't tear my eyes off her. When she's done, finishing with how Prim and their mother made the goat swallow brews and herbs to cure it, I can't help some teasing, just to wipe off the wistful look on her face.

"They sound like you."

She starts a little, obviously lost in her recalling and the joy of her beloved sister. "Oh, no, Peeta. They work magic. That thing couldn't have died if it tried."

She bites her lips then, worry creeping back upon her face. So I joke some more. "Don't worry, I'm not trying. Finish the story."

"Well, that's it. Only I remember that night Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her cheek, like it was giving her a goodnight kiss or something. It was already mad about her."

"Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?" I ask amusedly.

"I think so. Why?"

"I'm just trying to get a picture", I answer her, clearly visualizing the scene in my head, my hands itching to draw it, for her. "I can see why that day made you happy."

"Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine", she says almost defensively, her defences rising up again.

I suppress a sigh. The sharing moment didn't last long. She couldn't help but appear strong and unattainable, devoid of emotions. But I could just underline the weaknesses under the thick armour. Her love for her sister, her unswerving loyalty to her family, her being the one sustaining them all since the age of eleven, making her much too mature for a sixteen-year-old girl. All things she raised in front of her to protect her from most people, except Prim and maybe Gale Hawthorne, but that didn't fool me anymore. But I had to be patient. She wouldn't open up easily.

"Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping", I can't help but comment sarcastically.

"The goat has paid for itself, several times over", she insists stubbornly.

"Well, it wouldn't dare do anything else after you saved its life. I intend to do the same thing."

"Really?" she asks with a deep scowl. "What did you cost me again?"

"A lot of trouble", I answer seriously. "Don't worry. You'll get it all back." After I'm dead and you return to District 12 as a victor, I add in my mind.

"You're not making sense", she says dismissively, her hand resting on my forehead. It feels frozen, which means I might soon be delirious from fever. Maybe I would spontaneously combust, I think pensively. "You're a little cooler, though."

I want to snort at her blatant lie, but then we start as loud trumpets echo in the cave. Katniss bounces on her feet and listens intently as we hear Claudius Templesmith inviting us to a feast. Well, _I_ wouldn't be going anywhere soon, and Katniss dismisses the offer with a wave of her hand, but Templesmith goes on about the offer of something we desperately need given out at dawn at the Cornucopia, about the last chance for some of us, namely me, and this time I can see that she's hooked.

I can't have her going to a bloodbath for my sake, so I reach out for her. She can't do this. Not for a dying, useless boy like me. "No", I say, making her jump. "You're not risking your life for me."

"Who said I was?" she says with a scowl. But her eyes, too bright, almost silver with the hope swirling in them, betray her thoughts.

"So you're not going?" I ask her, not believing her for a second.

"Of course I'm not going. Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid."

She makes me lie in the sleeping bad. "I'll let them fight it out", she adds unconvincingly. "We'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there."

I shake my head in disbelief. "You're such a bad liar, Katniss. I don't know how you've survived this long." I mimic her, trying to make her see she can't convince anyone. "_I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler, though. Of course I'm not going_. Never gamble at cards", I add more seriously. "You'll lose your last coin."

"All right", she exclaims, her cheeks flushing red. "I am going, and you can't stop me!"

"I can follow you", I state, feeling anger rising in my whole body. "At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure."

"You won't get a hundred metres from here on that leg."

"Then I'll drag myself. You go and I'm going too."

She assesses me, her face crimson in anger, probably wondering if I'm serious. But I won't back down. She's _not_ dying on me. Ever.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asks, furious. "Sit here and watch you die?"

That's exactly what I want you to do, I want to tell her. But instead I have to placate her, make her believe I can make it, at least until after the doomed feast. "I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go."

She appraises me again, and I can see that she'll give in, but her steely eyes tell otherwise. I'll have to survey her very carefully. "Then you have to do what I say", she snaps. "Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of the soup, no matter how disgusting it is!"

"Agreed. Is it ready?"

"Wait here."

She stomps out of the cave, to be back a minute later with the pot. The soup is delicious, I think as I eat it thoroughly, even more since she's the one who made it, but when I tell her she makes a face, clearly not believing me. Then she gives me some pills for the fever and heads out again to wash the bowl.

She takes longer to return, but when she comes back she's holding the pot again.

"I've brought you a treat. I found a new patch of berries a little further downstream."

I'm not really into berries, but I want to please her. After all, she got out of her way to take care of me. So she sits down next to me and gives me a spoonful of the mush. I recognize some mint and the sweetness of the berries. Much too sweet for my taste. I gently point it to her.

"Yes, they're sugar berries", she says matter-of-factly. "My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?"

I swallow another spoonful. "No", I admit. "But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?"

Something is nagging at the back of my head, but I can't quite put my finger on what's bothering me. The fever is up again, making me a little confused.

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild", she explains patiently.

As she gives me a third spoonful, a strange gleam shoots across her silver eyes. But I don't know what this means.

"They're sweet as syrup", I say before taking the last spoonful. And then it hits me. "Syrup!" I exclaim, and I spit out the mouthful. But it's too late, I realize, as the cave around me slowly starts spinning and my eyelids weigh a ton.

"Katniss!" I say again, weaker by the second. She helps me down on my back, a look of mixed triumph and sadness on her face, her hand gently caressing my cheek.

"I"m sorry, Peeta, I really am. That's the only way for you not to die. And I won't stand it if you die. Looks like I can lie, after all."

"No..." I stammer, barely hearing my voice as sleep engulfs me. "Please... don't do this... Katniss... I love you..."

" I'm sorry, Peeta", she repeats, a small tear escaping her eye. The last image I have before falling into blackness is her bending over me, the last feeling I have is her cool lips on mine. And then nothingness.

* * *

When I stir from my slumber, daylight is everywhere in the cave. I feel much better, no fever making me shiver, only a dull pain in my thigh, and at first I don't realize how it can be. Katniss' cold hand is in mine. And then it hits me.

"Katniss!" I cry aloud, sitting up abruptly.

And there she is, lying beside me. Her grey eyes wide open, staring at the mouth of the cave, towards the light and the woods she loved so much. A large pool of blood beneath her, coming from a very deep gash on her forehead. Her hand still clutching mine. The syringe she used on me between our arms.

I can't believe my eyes. I can't believe my senses. She can't be dead. _She can't be dead!_

"Katniss", I whisper softly. I gently extract my hand from hers, and caress her pale cheeks. She doesn't stir. The light illuminating her silver eyes is long gone. She's gone.

Something in me breaks violently at that moment. My heart beats dangerously in my chest, aching like it's torn between two wrestlers. My mind shatters. She died for me. She drugged me with sleep syrup, no doubt sent by Haymitch, she went to the Cornucopia, she fought over the medicine, she came back, she injected me the cure, and she died by my side. How is this fair? How?!

I howl loudly, desperately, crying out her name, stroking her hair, shaking with rage, fury, aching sobs, tears pouring down my face. I fling myself on her, sobbing uncontrollably, trying to retain the last comfort she gave me. Useless. Utterly useless. She's gone.

After what seems like hours, the tears finally stop pouring, my chest stops heaving painfully. I sit up again by her side, my hand still in hers. I know I'm lucky in a way. We're in a cave, the hovercraft can't steal her body from me. I can tell her farewell.

As gently as I can, I close her beautiful eyes. She looks like she's asleep now. I grab her water bottles and clean the wound on her forehead. After that, I put her bow and arrows by her side, straightening her dirty clothes, and she's my sleeping regal queen. My heart, silent for having been wrenched away, will always belong to her, and remain here with her.

Then I look at my wound. The swelling has gone, and the gash is slowly closing. I put a new bandage on it, and I get up and slowly exit the cave. I need to draw.

Near the stream I find what I'm looking for. A sharp rock. I go back to the cave, pausing at the entrance. The cave is now a tomb, a shrine for a hunting goddess. A mausoleum in an arena where children kill children for some people's entertainment and others' submission. Katniss is dead, but by her own terms. She's not a pawn in their Games anymore. And I'll prove it.

I take my time. After all, the remaining tributes can come here and try to kill me. I'm waiting. Not fully healed, but waiting. I'll defend my queen and her resting place, I'll kill them all, and then I'll win. Not for me. Not for Katniss, who sacrificed all she had, her life, her family, her friends, her hopes, for me. Not for my family or anybody. But just for showing the Capitol they don't own us, not even in death. And also for beating the shit out of Haymitch for the sleep syrup trick.

It takes me the entire day, the night (with the help of Katniss' night glasses) and the following morning, but at long last it's done. I've engraved every wall of stone around her with drawings. A huge forest, deers, wild turkeys, rabbits, squirrels, Prim, Gale, me, Cinna, Haymitch, Effie. We'll all guard her now.

The rain started around midnight, huge drops falling around us. I had to put the plastic fabric above Katniss' upper body, wedged between rocks, to preserve her as much as I could. But I know it can't last. The Gamemakers can't be happy about my behaviour and me defying them so openly. I don't care. I'll be a victor. They won't be able to punish me. They already took everything I had.

I treat my wound again, now an almost closed gash, eat some food, and then I contemplate Katniss for a long time. Death hasn't made her less beautiful. It wrenches me to leave her there, where I know some people will come and take away her body, but I know her spirit will remain here. That wouldn't have pleased her, but at least she's not alone there. My mangled soul will keep her company.

I gather the sleeping bag, the water bottles, the knife, the first aid kit, the remaining food, and put them in Katniss' duffel bag, then I exit the cave. I don't glance back. I'm so sore from the excruciating pain I feel like I'm crawling naked on glass shards, spikes repeatedly piercing all my organs. But I have to win. So I have to hunt. I fill the water bottles in the stream, purify them, and then I get started. The rain has stopped. Perfect.

I make my way to the Cornucopia, guessing that Cato is lurking around it at all times. Careers are predictable. They stay close to the supplies. So I'll find him there. One of us is going down today. And it won't be me.

On my way to the lake, I try to watch out for edible food. Katniss was the best at hunting and gathering, but I have to fend for myself now. I still have some food, enough for a day or two, but I don't know how long it will be for me to win now. Cato, Clove and Thresh aren't softies, and there's still Foxface. Catching her is going to be a tough thing.

I concentrate on my goal, not on my bleeding heart. The pain is almost unbearable, but anger sustains me, fueling me with energy. I'm set on my ghastly task.

I stumble upon some bluish berries, and I start collecting them. I put them on my upturned jacket on the ground, and I set off gathering some more. A while later, the blast of cannon startles me. Someone is dead, but who? I hastily come back to my jacket, and a few metres away I see a small figure with red hair.

I approach cautiously, but I see at once that she's dead. Foxface. One of my berries still on the corner of her mouth. Poisonous berries. Lucky she ate them before me. I pick up my jacket, spilling the berries on the ground, and I take off again. Behind me, the hovercraft picks the body up. I don't care. One down. Three to go.

I'm almost at the lake when the cannon goes off again. This time I know a powerful opponent is down. Good. Two to go.

I sit by the Cornucopia, in plain view of anyone coming out of the woods or the field of grass. The sun slowly sets, and I watch its amazing colors. Orange, like the one I love. Katniss told me her color was green. Like the forest around me. Her presence is so strong I'm ready to break down any moment.

But then the sun sets, the colors fade away. The anthem plays. This time I watch. Yesterday I couldn't. It was too much for me seeing Katniss' face in the sky. And I see Foxface, then Thresh. Only Cato and Clove left, then. Doesn't matter. I'll kill them both. Easier even, them being Careers. No remorse.

So I wait at the foot of the Cornucopia, my back against the cold metal. Only now do I notice that the supplies are gone. Blasted away, it seems. Good. The Careers don't hunt. They'll probably be weaker, hungry and angry. The end is near.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi folks! Just a little thing, many of you probably recognized the words from the Hunger Games first book in the first two chapters. I have forgotten to say, as it's obvious, that I do not own Hunger Games. I use the words of Suzanne Collins who did an amazing job writing this trilogy.**

**And second, I would appreciate it a lot if you could leave a tiny review to tell me what you think of this story ;) Thanks, and enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3

The first part of the night is uneventful. I sit at the foot of the Cornucopia, calmly keeping watch, waiting. My thigh hurts from the long walk, but the pain's bearable. Unlike the one in my heart. Each heartbeat feels like someone slashes at all the veins, muscles and arteries with razor blades. My lungs feel perforated. I can't breathe deeply anymore. I'm almost doubling over. But I have to win. I have to win for her.

I block all the memories away, only focusing on the Games. I know that if I let a single memory of her forward, I'll end up sobbing and writhing in pain on the ground. I can't afford that. I have to win, to make her sacrifice worth it. I'll crumble later.

Up in the sky the moon shines brilliantly, I can see all around me. My senses are sharpened, alert for the faintest sign of my opponents. Maybe Katniss is really there by my side, guiding me, protecting me still. Because when the spear whooshes past my ear, it's as if she was whispering in my ear, telling me to duck.

I get up fast, looking above my shoulder. Cato is standing fifteen metres away, enraged at the miss. I throw down my duffel bag and take out my knife. At the sight of me he sneers.

"So it's only you and me with knifes, huh? Fine, let's do this old-fashioned."

He grabs his own knife, a wicked curved blade that once was Clove's, and it hits me. She's dead too. So there is only the two of us. Fine. One combat less than expected.

I let him approach me, barrelling towards me like a bull, a nasty smile on his face. I keep my back pressed on the Cornucopia, for support for my thigh and for security. I'll kill him. It was meant to be.

He is three metres away now, and he slows down. The grin on his face is tinted with hatred and evil. He crouches a little, like a wild cat ready to pounce, and I stand ready.

"It seems like you and I both lost loved ones to the Games, Lover Boy", he snarls. "But I already killed Thresh, and you killed the girl from 5. So it's you and me now. And this time I won't let you escape fate."

I don't bother answering him. I concentrate on the incoming fight. I know he's a powerful opponent, and he knows how to play with a knife. But I am a wrestler, and my elder brother taught me how to fight with a blade.

So we begin. No more talk. He jabs at me, I deflect. He attacks like a snake, with vicious strikes, and at first I only defend myself. I know Cato's full of himself, like most of the Careers, and I want him to think I won't be able to attack him, lull him into a false sense of incoming victory.

He falls straight for it. His grin is large, his jabs more reckless and wide. He thinks he's having me cornered. "Now you know what awaits you, Lover Boy", he sneers again. "Death!"

And he lunges. But I was waiting for it. I dodge, fortunately my thigh's holding on, and I aim at his heart. Katniss' knife plunges straight into his ribcage as easily as in butter, and I hear his gasp of surprise and pain. He stumbles back, I withdraw the knife, and blood spurts out of the deep wound.

He stares at me with shock etched on his face, and as he's about to speak blood escapes from his mouth too. He coughs, falling on the ground in a heap. I don't even make a move towards him. I simply watch him die. Fortunately for him it's short, much shorter than I would've wanted, but within three minutes his eyes become glassy and he exhales a last breath.

The cannon blasts a last time, and Claudius Templesmith's booming voice resonates in the air and the woods around me. "Ladies and gentlemen! I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Peeta Mellark! I give you – the last tribute of District Twelve!"

Sickening loud cheers echo all around me. I wait for the hovercraft to pick me up, and soon I'm frozen on the ladder. Up inside a team of doctors examine me from head to toe. They quickly treat my wounds, remove my tracker, and by the time we land on the Training Center the gash on my thigh is just a fading scar.

I'm escorted back to the upper floor, where my prep team is eagerly waiting for me. But in front of them stand Effie Trinket, looking upset, and Haymitch. The guilty look on his tight features is enough to push me over the edge.

I march up to him, rise to my full height. I'm still shorter than him, but it doesn't matter. I punch him in the nose with all my might. And I lash out.

"Traitor! Fucking bastard! How could you?! She died because you gave her the syrup! She wouldn't have gone if you hadn't sent it! I could've watched over her! She was the one supposed to survive, not me! You knew I love her! I had only her! And now she's dead! And what will happen to her family? She was the one feeding them, caring for them! My family doesn't need me!"

I pause, shooting daggers at him. He's bent over, gripping his nose with his hand and the other one on Effie's shoulder, but he makes no attempt at stopping me or begging me for forgiveness. He probably knew I would react like that and thought he deserved it. Right he was!

This lack of response from him drains all my remaining anger. I'm so tired and heartsick. I whisper, my voice barely audible even from me. "How can I live without her, Haymitch? How?"

He wipes the blood from his nose with his sleeve, then looks at me straight in the eye, sorrow in his grey eyes. Grey eyes almost the same color as hers. "I don't have any answer, kid. I don't cope with it very well either."

He hangs his head in shame and what looks like genuine remorse and hurt, and I just can't stand it anymore. I use my last bits of willpower to stumble to my room, and I crash onto the bed. There I scream, as loudly as I can. No cameras to record my pain. No death threats upon my head anymore. Nothing left for me to go back to.

Nobody comes for me, and that's fine. I don't want anybody. I want her. I so much want her back! But she's gone. And I can't accept it yet. It was meant to be me. She had a life ahead of her. Maybe with me, maybe with Gale. We'll never know now.

So I shout, howling my pain and my loss until my voice becomes too hoarse. And then I destroy everything in my reach. Soon my bedroom is torn apart, like a tornado went through it. I don't give a shit. Tab's on the Capitol.

I go on breaking everything and punching walls until my knuckles are raw and split open, and I start leaving too much blood on the white paint. So I curl up into a ball on a spared corner of the thick carpet, and I sob. Huge, aching sobs that rack my whole body. I find myself rocking back and forth, moaning, calling out her name through my tears.

But nothing lasts forever. Exhaustion creeps up on me, and I fall asleep right on the spot.

When I wake up, I'm in another room, much like the one I tore apart. My hands are bandaged, and under the white sheets my skin is clean. I have lost a lot of weight, but I'm alive. Lucky me.

A soft knock on the door disturbs the silence, and Effie comes inside, looking wary.

"Hello, Peeta", she says in a soft voice. "How are you?"

"Sorry, Effie", I say in a subdued voice. "I don't want to answer that."

"I understand,", she says kindly, taking a seat beside the bed.

I wait, not wanting to make small talk. She purses her lips, looking awkward, her fingers moving restlessly on the frills of her skirt. At long last she takes a deep breath, and I brace myself.

"The interview will take place this afternoon", she says apologetically. "You need to be ready."

I stare at her incredulously. An interview? Now? I know there's always an interview of the victor, but I can't bring myself to do something so horrible now that Katniss...

And how could I watch the highlights of the Games? How could I see Katniss' death? Her sacrifice? My complete failure at saving her?

"Effie, I..." I stammer, a huge lump in my throat. "I can't... I don't..."

"I'm so sorry, Peeta", she says, patting my knee, eyes very bright. "But unfortunately you have no choice. All of Panem is required to watch it, the announcement has been made. You can't skip the interview."

"Who made the announcement?" I ask in despair, tears running freely again.

She hands me a handkerchief, looking ill-at-ease, and answers my question. "President Snow."

Snow. I should've known. I defied the Capitol by paying my last respects to Katniss in the cave. So he's making me pay. He wants to crush me until I fade into oblivion, losing myself in alcohol out of despair, like Haymitch, or go crazy like so many victors, or commit suicide.

And at that instant, I know what I have to do. I won't be a pawn of Snow. Not a piece in the Games anymore. I won't be destroyed like that. I'll resist. I'll be strong. And I'll start something. But first...

"Okay, Effie", I say, wiping my tears away, a new resolve in my voice. "I'll be ready."

She looks at me in surprise, not understanding my sudden flip-flop. But, being so fussy about good manners, she doesn't ask any questions and leaves me, only telling me that my prep team would take care of me in two hours.

I get up and hastily put some mismatched clothes on, and I go find Haymitch. He's in the dining room, half-heartedly chasing some pork chops around his plate. His nose is swollen and purple, but at least it doesn't seem broken.

When I grab a chair right across him, he looks at me in astonishment.

"I need some advice", I tell him.

He looks dumbstruck, but soon he straightens on his chair and nods.

"I can't accept this situation", I say calmly, hoping he'll understand the double meaning of my words. "The interview, okay. But to be crowned victor by President Snow is probably more than I can handle. I worry I won't be able to restrain myself."

He stays silent for a moment, clearly appraising me. I can see in his eyes that he understood me loud and clear. I want to kill Snow. What better moment than when he will put the crown on my head?

At long last Haymitch clears his throat. "Better restrain yourself, kid. You can't escape out of this. But maybe I have something that can help you."

I stare at him in silence. I guessed right. We're spied upon, the place's not safe. "I wouldn't mind some fresh air", I say matter-of-factly.

"Let's go, then", he says immediately, getting to his feet. I'm surprised to notice he doesn't stumble and looks soberer than I've ever seen him.

We make our way to the roof. The sun is pleasant on my face, and a gentle breeze makes the wind chimes ticking softly. We settle under a large oak where five chimes will cover our voices.

I start. "Haymitch, what do you have that can help me?"

He appraises me a last time. "A rebellion, kid", he says quietly.

Whatever it was that I was expecting from him, it wasn't that. I'm dumbstruck, rooted to the spot. A rebellion clearly wasn't in my mind. The idea of rebelling against the Capitol is kind of frightening. But the longer I think about it the more it makes sense.

"A rebellion would be perfect", I nod in agreement. "We can't let children kill each other in the Hunger Games anymore. And the Districts deserve better treatment than being slaves to the Capitol."

"True enough", Haymitch acknowledges. "The Districts are restless. There has been uprisings there and then, but this year something really triggered a major move."

"What?" I ask him as he pauses suddenly, the colors draining from his face.

"Katniss' death", he exhales in a whisper.

It's as if he gave me a punch in the stomach. All the air is gone from my lungs. I can't breathe anymore, suffocating under the fresh reminder of my loss and the pain it causes me. I double over, my hand reaching out for the railing, grabbing for support. The tears spill out yet again, and I feel like my heart, with open wounds so large I'm bleeding to death constantly, will never heal and be whole again.

"I know, kid", Haymitch says unexpectedly, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. "Snow killed my family too because of a stunt I pulled during my Games. As if being a victor isn't enough of a punishment."

I faintly nod in approval. The kids dead in the arena aren't the less lucky ones. Being a victor, living with the loss, the guilt, the crushing of your innocence and values, and pretending winning like this is a huge honor is truly the worst punishment ever. No wonder Haymitch can't cope without being drunk all the time.

I stand upright again, exhaling loudly, wiping my cheeks. I know I can't live with this. I can't live without her. But I have to know.

"Tell me what happened."

"It all began with Rue", Haymitch starts, bending over the railing and looking in the distance at the amazing view of the city at our feet. "You know, little girl from 11. Katniss teamed up with her after the tracker jacker nest."

I nod, not surprised. Katniss had seemed genuinely concerned about Rue during training. Haymitch goes on.

"You'll probably see it all during the highlights tonight, but better if you're prepared. Katniss really took care of Rue. It's obvious she reminded her of her own sister. So they teamed up, and they orchestrated the destroying of the Careers' supplies. But it didn't go as planned."

I wait patiently for the rest. My decision is made, I have no need to rush.

"Rue was setting fires to attract the Careers, and Katniss blew up everything with her arrows. The idiots had the boy from 3 using the landmines to protect the stockpile. Katniss shot at a sack full of apples. She was excellent", he adds, eyes dangerously bright.

I know I'm crying again, but I also know this pain won't last. It'll fade. I have a purpose again. For her. So I keep listening to my mentor.

"It took her only three arrows, but she made the apples fall everywhere, and the supplies blew up. She got hurt, there was blood pouring from her left ear. But she hid in time to avoid the returning Careers. After that she searched for Rue. Little girl was trapped in a net, and got speared by Marvel just as Katniss arrived on scene."

I close my wet eyes. The scene is horrible in my mind. It'll be a hundred times worse when I watch it tonight in front of all Panem. Good thing Haymitch is preparing me then.

"Katniss shot Marvel, but the damage was done. Rue asked Katniss to sing for her. And Katniss did. After Rue died, she covered her in flowers."

I'm quite surprised to see actual tears running from my mentor's eyes, but I avert my eyes. I need to hear the rest of the story.

"It was the most beautiful and dreadful thing I've ever seen in all this years in the Games. And I think it triggered something big. Because just after that, District 11 asked me to send Katniss a loaf of bread from them. Nothing like that had ever happened before. And that night, uprisings multiplied everywhere."

So Katniss' act was the first start of the rebellion. That suits me well enough. She's a martyr, a rallying figure for the young movement.

"You know what happened after that", Haymitch finishes softly. "She was intent on saving you. I don't know why, kid, but maybe she really loved you."

I can't hear something like that without falling to pieces here and now, so I shake my head. "Haymitch, please..."

"Okay, kid", he says. "When she got to the Cornucopia, Foxface had already left. She grabbed your cure, but Clove appeared. They fought, and Katniss got stabbed in the forehead. Clove was upon her, gloating about how they killed Rue and about to finish her off. Then Thresh came. He killed Clove and let Katniss run away, for Rue."

He pauses, eyeing me with sorrow again. I never would've thought he cared so much about his tributes. About her.

"Katniss made it to the cave, but by the time she arrived she had lost a lot of blood. She just had time to inject the medicine to you before she collapsed."

I'm gripping the railing so tight my knuckles split open again, tinting the bandages red. It's so hard for me hearing that part. But I have to be prepared. I can't crumble to dust tonight. And so I give Haymitch a tiny nod, and he finishes the recounting.

"You have to know that she whispered your name twice, and was looking at you just before she turned her head towards the woods. Just before she died."

Haymitch's voice breaks just as I collapse on the ground. I want to howl out in despair again, pass out from the excruciating pain. I can't live with this amount of pain and guilt. I can't live with the possibility that, despite her barriers and detached attitude, maybe she finally had some feelings for me. It's too much. I'm going berserk, overwhelmed.

A hand resting on my shoulder brings me back to the present. "I'm so sorry, kid. I know I made a terrible mistake. I never would've thought she could die like that. I..."

"It's okay", I murmur, but loud enough to cut him. "I know you chose her over me. And you were right to do so. She was the one meant to survive. Not me."

I'm sitting on the ground, dizzy and nauseous, Haymitch's hand still on my shoulder. He stays silent, probably at a loss for words. Everything has been said. At long last I get to my feet, collecting my thoughts, focusing on my rage instead of my sorrow.

"You said things got in motion for a rebellion thanks to Katniss."

"I did", he acknowledges seriously. "Katniss' act of respect towards Rue was a first, and it deeply moved even here in the Capitol. People started asking themselves if having children dying in the Hunger Games was right, a first again. But when Katniss died so you could live, showing the courage she has shown, that caused a major uproar. All the Districts are in chaos. In fact, every District rebelled openly against the Capitol save 2. In there there are still major combats, but one hour ago the last Peacekeepers were asking about the terms for surrender. And honestly, the system is at a dead end. It's too fast for a country to rebel like that in such short notice. But the 74th Hunger Games were one Games too much, I daresay."

I feel overwhelmed again, but this time by the chain of reaction these muddy, bloody Games have triggered. Even in my wildest dreams I never would've dared dream of a rebellion against the powerful Capitol, and now chaos everywhere. Just thanks to Katniss.

"Incredible", I murmur.

"I know", Haymitch nods in approval, regaining some composure. "Who would've thought it could be so simple? But now we have reached a balance point."

"What do you mean?" I ask, puzzled.

"Almost all the Districts have won, the Peacekeepers there are dead, have turned or surrendered. The Capitol is cut out from most of its supplies. Even now, we only have electricity here in the center of the Capitol because of tonight's show. The shutdown happened two days ago, when the rebels blew up a dam in District 5."

"Two days ago?" I ask in astonishment. "Was I still in the arena?"

"No", my mentor shakes his head. "You've been extracted from the arena five days ago, kid."

"Five? That's impossible", I state in utter disarray. Five days couldn't have passed without me knowing about it, no way. Unless...

"You spent one day shouting yourself hoarse and wrecking furniture and walls, kid", Haymitch explains gently, staring at me with pity. "Then you spent another one curled into a ball on your carpet. I came to see you several times but you were unresponsive. And last you passed out for one day, and you've been mended and sedated the remaining two days. Makes five."

I shake my head in disbelief. But right now it doesn't matter. This isn't about me. "So, about the balance point?"

"See, kid, Snow's quite stubborn", Haymitch explains with a grim smile. "He doesn't accept the whole thing. Still believes the Districts can be subdued. As a matter of fact, he has had all people around him talking about a surrender executed. He's raving mad."

"And as long as Snow's alive..." I begin.

"The Capitol won't surrender", Haymitch finishes grimly.

I think about the problem. But in fact, it isn't a problem at all.

"Haymitch", I say very calmly. "I suppose I'll be crowned victor tonight, won't I?"

"Yes", he says, his eyes wide with alarm. "And don't you even think about it, kid. You'll just get yourself shot on the spot."

"So what?"

The calm with which I ask my question obviously rattles him. He stammers, and I have to admit this is quite funny.

"But... But you'll be... You'll be killed, Peeta!"

"So what?" I repeat with a small smile.

We stay silent for a whole minute, locking eyes with each other. Maybe he's strong enough to live without his loved ones and the aftermath of his Games and the mentoring of those after that, but I know I'm not. I love Katniss too much. And I know I won't be able to get over with her loss. I'm not a hardened inhabitant of the Seam. And Haymitch knows it as well as I do.

At long last he exhales loudly, putting a shaking hand on my shoulder yet again. "I can't ask you to do that, kid."

I shake my head. "I know you don't. But remember I was never asked to die in the Games either, it was forced upon me. And Katniss was supposed to win. She sacrificed herself for me. So I must do what's right to be sure there will never be another Hunger Games. If I kill Snow, can you assure me that?"

"I can", Haymitch says, his gaze never wavering. "I know some people here in the Capitol inside the rebellion. The aftermath of Snow's reign is already prepared. All is ready for a democracy to kick in almost as soon as the tyrant dies."

"Good", I approve, feeling at peace with myself. "Then it's all right. It was meant to be. Now only one thing's left for me to do before I kill Snow."

"What?" my mentor asks, looking both sad and curious.

I heave a sigh, my morale dropping a few degrees. "I have to endure a three hours' show with Caesar Flickerman first."

Haymitch shoots me an incredulous look, and I can't help a quiet laugh. But soon we're both laughing out loud, me out of fear, hope and craziness. Then Haymitch shakes his head and grabs my elbow.

"Come on, kid. We're gonna make a good time for you before all this."

And I obediently follow him, my mind in peace. Behind me the wind rustles in the leaves of the trees of the garden on the roof, and it's as if a huntress is whispering softly in my ear.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

On our way down, I ask Haymitch a question that's been gnawing at my entrails.

"What about Katniss' body?"

He bites his lips uneasily and stops to look at me in the eyes again.

"Her body has been sent to District 12. Her burial took place three days ago."

I nod, only dimly aware of him now. The love of my life, buried under six feet of earth, away from me for ever. Maybe someday I'll be able to tame the wild cat chewing at my heart and ripping apart my guts. That's if I survive another day. But in truth, I don't want to survive another day.

"How about her sister and mother? Do you know anything?"

"I do", he nods somberly. "Prim is in a state of shock and won't do anything except wail and sit on her bed day and night. Her mother is in a better state. She takes care of Prim as best she can. But I understand Katniss and she weren't on best terms."

True enough. Katniss and Prim were wasting away after their father's death. I could see it at school, when I watched Katniss from afar. And of course I remember only too well the day she had been trying to find something to eat in our dustbin, the day I have been so afraid of her dying of hunger that I burned two loaves of bread, got hit by my witch of a mother for it and threw them to Katniss' small silhouette slumped behind our apple tree.

She wouldn't have had to do such a dreadful thing if her mother had been around. That I know. So the news don't surprise me. I feel yet again a stab of guilt when thinking about Prim, but at least I tell myself she won't have to wait long for getting her revenge, one way or another.

We set off again, and this time Portia, my stylist, and my prep team are waiting for me in the dining room. I follow them to my bedroom, and Portia hugs me for a few seconds. "I'm really sorry, Peeta", she whispers in my ear.

She has known from the beginning that my feelings for Katniss were genuine, and my statement in front of Caesar Flickerman not just a show for the audience. But I shake my head. I don't want anyone's sympathy. I can't deal with it.

While the two men of my prep team work on my hair and my overall appearance, Portia just sits gazing at me with a thoughtful expression. Nobody speaks, which is fine by me. And when their work is done, the men exit the room, leaving me alone with my stylist.

I wait for her verdict. She stays silent for quite a long time, which is unusual for her. At last she gets to her feet and slowly circles me. I'm almost naked, but I couldn't care less. And then she speaks.

"Cinna is right. I didn't want to believe it, but he definitely has it right."

Now I'm lost. "What do you mean, Portia?"

"Cinna thinks that you'll need a more practical outfit than the one I was ready to give you", she explains, tilting her head and rubbing her wrists in nervousness. "And I'll listen to him. He has an eye for these things."

She then leads me to the walk-in closet and helps me in a large but elegant black shirt, some regular black pants and boots, a casual sleeveless black pullover with a V-neck and a matching tie. The outfit puzzles me, but when I see myself in the mirror, I can't help but feel Cinna just saw right through me. I look like I have style, and I look like I'm mourning as well. And I can move a lot better than in a tuxedo, which suits my plans perfectly.

"It's great, Portia", I tell her in earnest.

"Yes, it is", she confirms, her eyes bright. "And I have something for you."

She extracts a little object from her pocket and hands it out to me. I gasp in surprise and pain. It's Katniss' pin, the one she wore in the arena and before, with some sort of bird on it. She takes my hand, as I'm frozen on the spot, and puts it in my palm, clasping my fingers over it.

"Cinna told me it's a mockingjay", she says very seriously, a single tear running down her cheek. "He and Haymitch think it's better if you wear it from now on. For her."

I don't quite understand what she means by that, but she obviously wants to pass me a message. But right now I'm in shock and clueless. So she takes the pin again and puts it on my sweater, right over my aching heart.

Then she hugs me once more, and I can't help but hug her too. "I'll see you after the interview, to prep you for tonight's ceremony", she says.

Then she hurriedly leaves the room, leaving me with my rambling thoughts.

After that, I join Haymitch and Effie in the dining room. I eat with appetite, trying to empty my mind of anything, enjoying the comfort of the food and the non-stop babble of Effie. Haymitch shoots me a grim look from time to time, but I don't care. I've made up my mind a long time ago.

Effie insists on me trying to go on casually with the show, then lays out her schedule for me until after the Victory Tour, and I let her talk. Only talk, that is. Haymitch pours me a glass of white liquor, and I sip it carefully. The beverage is stronger than anything I've ever sampled, but its heat is oddly comforting.

Then I settle for a game of chess with my mentor. At first he plays carefully, not daring. But after a few minutes he makes riskier moves, and I see an opening. Three moves later I checkmate him. He topples down his king with a face, and I grin at him.

"Good job, kid", he says casually. "You're a lucky little victor. Hope you won't cry tomorrow when I flatten you in the train."

"Tough luck, Haymitch", I say, only half-teasing. "We'll see tomorrow."

"Nice pin", he adds with a glint of sorrow in his eyes. "It suits you."

"I hope so", I say, fighting down the emotion swelling in my chest and trying to keep my voice steady. "Portia told me it's a mockingjay."

"Interesting little creatures, mockingjays. Do you know about them?"

I shake my head.

"Well, they're tough birds. They sing beautifully and can memorize and replicate any song. Offsprings of jabberjays, the mutts created by the Capitol which could repeat entire conversations and left to die out after the Dark days. The jabberjays mated with female mockingbirds, and the result is on your pullover."

He stares at me with an intense expression on his face, and I suddenly understand. Mockingjays are a symbol of resistance, creatures born from the Capitol's experiments but not meant to exist. A perfect symbol for a brewing rebellion.

I nod. Katniss is the Mockingjay. She's dead, but not in spirit. And I have to keep her spirit alive. I'm to be the embodiment of her sacrifice. I won't let her down.

Haymitch bends over the table to pat me on the shoulder, and Effie bursts into the room. "We're on a schedule!" she trills brusquely. "Peeta, dear, it's time for your interview!"

I sigh softly before rising to my feet. I don't have far to go as the interview takes place in the sitting room. Haymitch and Effie right behind me, I enter and Caesar Flickerman is there, wearing blue from head to toe like before the Games, and walks to me, welcoming me with a beam so large it's sickening to watch.

"Come in, Peeta, come in! Congratulations for your victory!"

I don't feel like celebrating, though, so I remain silent, only nodding at him and shaking his outstretched hand. He gestures at me to sit on the plush armchair by the coffee table, and he sits at my right so the cameras can film us both.

"This interview isn't live, Peeta", Flickerman explains calmly. "Usually it happens after the highlights and the crowning of the victor. But circumstances demand that this year we record it before the ceremony."

Circumstances. I almost let out my derisive snort. These circumstances have a name: Snow. Of course he can't have me aired live in front of all Panem crying about Katniss and the unfairness of her death. He wants to be able to edit my speech. But if he thinks this is enough to subdue me, then he's mistaken.

"Right", Caesar Flickerman says, rubbing his hands business-like. "Are you ready, Peeta?"

"Yes", I say calmly.

"Okay, then, let's go."

He works his face to make a huge beam as the red lights on the cameras appear, and starts genially, almost looking driven mad by giddiness.

"Good morning, Panem! This is Caesar Flickerman, live from the Training Center here in our great Capitol to interview our victor of the 74th Hunger Games, Mr Peeta Mellark!"

He pauses for a few seconds, then turns towards me, still grinning like a madman. At that moment I just can't believe I used to think him cool enough during our first interview. Now he seems like an oversized toddler playing with his toy and giggling stupidly. I'd rather have a toddler to answer to, I'd probably get more sensible questions.

"So, Peeta, you're the seventy-fourth victor of the Hunger Games. What do you feel about it?"

I stay silent, only glaring at Flickerman until he shifts uneasily on his seat, his smile fading a little. Then he tries again. "Peeta? Can you tell us about being this year's victor?"

I look at him straight in the eye, letting some of my anger forward. "How can you ask me such a question, Caesar? Being this year's victor is a dreadful thing for me."

Flickerman's smile disappears for good. He obviously knows this interview won't go as smoothly as the ones he carried out before. He tries for gentleness, reaching forward to pat my knee.

"Now, Peeta, I understand this is difficult for you. You've had a rough time in the arena. But all the people of Panem are eagerly waiting for this year's victor to talk to them, inspire them. You're an example of courage, strength and resilience for them. They need to see your interview. So let's try again, shall we?"

His words have the exact opposite effect on me than the one he meant. I am an example for them, but I must be for a different purpose than being a Capitol puppet. I must be the voice of the Mockinjay. So I nod.

He does his introduction again and asks me about what I feel being a victor.

"It's an honor, of course", I answer grimly. "But it's tinted with sorrow and guilt."

"I understand that you think about Katniss, speaking like that." Flickerman says. He knows now he won't have the joking Peeta of the first interview.

"Yes", I simply say.

"Forgive me to ask, but what does it feel losing a loved one like that in the arena?"

I want to jump at Flickerman here and then and strangle him with his glittering midnight-blue suit for daring to ask this intrusive question. But I restrain myself, focusing on my answer. I carefully choose my words.

"I feel awful, of course. Katniss saved my life, and she sacrificed herself in doing so. But she's also a great source of inspiration for me. It's rare to see such a selfless act in the Hunger Games. And I love her even more for that."

"Do you still love her, then?" he asks gravely, his compassionate expression as false as a snake's.

"More than ever", I answer truthfully. "A great part of me died along with her in the arena, and I know I won't ever be the same from now on. But she'll always be with me in my heart and my thoughts, and I hope she'll inspire me for my future choices."

"I see that you wear a pin just like hers", Caesar notices, his eyes narrowing. "What does it represent?"

"A mockingjay. It's a symbol of our District. I wear it as a reminder of her courage and in thanks for her saving me."

Flickerman fidgets in his chair, and I notice several cameramen exchanging a glance. It's clear the symbol bothers them, but I don't know why. After a few tense seconds Caesar fires away another question.

"What will you do now, Peeta, when you get back to your District?"

"I don't know, Caesar. I haven't thought about it yet. But I'd like to visit Katniss' grave."

I can see in his expression that the interview doesn't go as planned at all. So he says a last thing, getting to his feet and gripping my hand. "Well, thank you so much, Peeta. All our wishes go with you."

"Thank you, Caesar."

We shake hands and the red dots disappear. Flickerman releases me at once and makes a fast exit, murmuring about reviewing the highlights for tonight, closely followed by his crowd. In a matter of minutes the sitting room is empty save for Haymitch, Effie and me.

Effie is openly gnawing at her nails when I turn towards her, and she starts nervously.

"Oh, Peeta, what have you done? The victor is supposed to be showing gratitude for having won, whereas you..."

"Mourn?" I ask grimly, effectively cutting her. "Do _you_ feel like celebrating, Effie? Did you think I could play along with Caesar like I did the first time? Do you think I can feel grateful after what happened with Katniss?"

"No, of course, not", she finally admits, biting her lip. "But this interview... Peeta, you don't seem to understand..."

"I understand perfectly what I did, Effie", I counter her. "I stomped on some Capitol's toes, and to hell with them if they think I'll pretend like nothing bad happened. I've no life left ahead of me. My family doesn't give a shit about me. I lost all my life in this arena, Effie, do you understand? All my life! So no, I don't care, I'm sorry."

She stays silent, obviously thinking that I've brought a terrible fate upon me. But next to her, Haymitch, while staying silent too, stares at me with distinct pride in his eyes. And I know I've succeeded for now. I'm the voice of the Mockingjay. And soon all of Panem will know about it too.

I spend the rest of the afternoon on the roof of the Training Center, throwing pinecones away and catching them when hurled back by the force field. I wish I could draw, but I couldn't find neither paper nor pencils, as if the Capitol has had enough of my drawings in Katniss' cave.

Then I go lie under the huge oak tree, my thoughts with Katniss. I see her in the cave. I see her at school in our freezing courtyard. I see her here, on this very roof, stomping away after telling me that she intended to spend the last hours of her life in District Twelve. I close my eyes and there she is again, etched on the back of my eyelids, the memory of her gracious face exquisitely and painfully clear in my mind.

I open my eyes to find myself lying sideways on the ground, panting, doubled over and sobbing loudly. I'm not strong. I've never been. Otherwise I would've held my ground in front of my mother instead of being beaten up. Only Katniss made me want to be strong, for her. But she's gone. And I'm lost. And lonely. For ever lonely.

"Hey, kid."

Haymitch's voice. I slowly sit up, wiping my cheeks and trying to regain some composure. I have my back on him, but I hear several pairs of feet. What's going on? Are they Peacekeepers arresting me?

I hastily scramble to my feet and get my back against the oak trunk. But at Haymitch's sides are people I don't recognize. A handsome bronze-haired guy in his twenties with startling green eyes, a spiky-haired brunette with steel-cold brown eyes, and an older woman with golden-brown eyes and straight black hair streaked with silver.

"Peeta", Haymitch says, gesturing at the three people. "May I introduce you Finnick Odair, mentor from District 4, Johanna Mason from 7 and Seeder Bush from 11."

I nod, reluctant to come near them. I don't like being caught in a moment of weakness, and Haymitch must be aware of it. "We'll give you a few moments, kid, but I'd appreciate it if we could talk to you. We have important news for you."

I nod again, and they turn away towards the city. I look at the garden, taking deep breaths to calm myself, clearing away the rest of my tears. I don't want to know what these people want to tell me now. I just want to be left alone with my sorrow. I have so little time left.

But I know I won't win against Haymitch. And I have to admit I'm a little curious. What is he doing with mentors from other Districts? So I take a last deep breath and turn around.

All mentors are staring at me, apparently eager to start, but with different expressions on their faces. Finnick Odair's face is curious too, Johanna Mason's one is quite sulky, and Seeder's one expectant. But Haymitch's one is unsettling, because I can see hope. And that's something I never would've thought I'd see on a face of a drunken wreck like him.

I wait for them, and after a few seconds hesitating Haymitch leads them towards me. I lean against the oak again, right under a wind chime, and look at Haymitch. He clears his throat.

"First, well done kid. Your interview", he adds, seeing my puzzled expression. "You stayed calm, yet conveying your message loud and clear. I think the Capitol brats won't cut it too much. They need some footage, after all, and as it is, they don't have too much."

Again, I simply nod. I don't feel like talking. I'll just listen, and it had better be good. Haymitch hastily goes on.

"I have something to tell you, Peeta. You wear the mockingjay. Do you know what this means?"

I shrug.

"It means that you're part of something big. Something bigger than any of us."

On his left Finnick smacks his lips impatiently and Johanna rolls her eyes. But Seeder keeps still, and so do I. I know what this is all about. The rebellion.

"So I want to ask you not to do what you want to do tonight."

This catches me by surprise. Haymitch can't be serious. This is the ideal occasion to get rid of Snow, and the democracy is ready, he himself told me so! So why wait?

"I can see you didn't expect that", my mentor says, shifting on his feet. "And believe me, I want nothing more than seeing this tyrant die, preferably slowly and painfully. But something happened, and we can't have you killed right now."

I shake my head. I don't want to hear more. I've made up my mind. I won't go back on this. Strangely, it's Finnick who speaks up after that.

"Peeta, we don't know each other, yet I think I can see what bounces in your head right now. You want revenge, and you want to take it out on Snow. And you're right, he's the one who has to die for the Hunger Games' victims, and for the horrible oppression of the Districts. Believe me, we know in District 4 how to be hungry and desperate. But Haymitch is right. You'll have to wait a little bit to have Snow's hide."

Again I shake my head. I don't trust him. I remember him now, a Capitol pet, often appearing during each year's Games on the screen, often flirting with rich Capitolite people. I can feel a scowl on my forehead, but when I remember Katniss used to scowl a lot of time, a stab of pain jolts through my heart, making me want to crumple on myself.

I see the mentors exchanging a glance, but I've had enough. I'm not interested in what they have to say, and it looks like they don't want to give me any specifics. So I turn my back on them and make a step to retreat further into the garden, only wanting to be left alone.

Unfortunately someone grabs my shoulder. I jerk the hand off of me, turning on the spot, and find myself face to face with Johanna, looking very angry.

"Where do you think you're going?" she spits out with something like hatred in her harsh voice. "We're all ready to risk our lives for you, and you walk away without bothering to listen? After all this shit? After Katniss' useless death?"

"Johanna!" Haymitch calls out at her in warning. But she waves him away.

"He has to know, Haymitch. I don't care if he's just a squeamish boy who won by chance, or more probably because the girl had the guts to save him instead of her own life, but..."

She can't continue as I suddenly lose control. I lift her off the ground and slam her against the nearest tree, my forearm digging into her neck and choking her.

"Don't ever talk about Katniss", I hiss venomously, a murdering lust dancing before my eyes. "Don't even say her name. You think you can come and throw things like that in my face without me killing you?"

She doesn't answer. In fact, she's turning a violent shade of purple, her eyes looking at me in obvious alarm. I'm only dimly aware of two strong pairs of hands trying to break my stranglehold, but Haymitch's frantic words suddenly reach my brain.

"Peeta, please let go! I'll explain everything, I swear. I'll explain right now! But please let her go! You're strangling her! Please, Peeta!"

I release my grip on her, and she crumples in a heap at my feet. She coughs a lot, then rises to her feet, helped by Seeder, and shoots me a heinous glare.

I return her harsh stare. I don't trust her either. I don't know what she's doing here if she thinks she can insult me and Katniss' memory.

"Thank you, Peeta" Haymitch says, putting himself between me and Johanna. "We can't have us killing each other, we're far too few to start losing our heads and jump at each others' throats."

I snort in derision. I'm not part of any 'us' yet. Seeder must see my hostility, because she speaks then in a calm, soothing voice.

"We're sorry, Peeta. We know this is a hard time for you. But we need your help. Please just listen to us. Then you'll be free to make up your mind as you see fit."

I consider her for a long time. She looks honest, and she doesn't try to force me into doing anything yet. And she asked nicely. So I nod, surveying all four mentors. Johanna seethes with rage, but Finnick puts a calming hand on her arm, and she puffs angrily but loses some of her aggressive edge.

Then Haymitch takes his cue. He's still looking awkward, but he starts speaking.

"All right, Peeta. So here's the thing. If you kill Snow tonight, we won't be able to stop the retaliation blow the Capitol will strike upon District Twelve. And it'd be a disaster. We can't warn anyone as communications between the District and the Capitol have been cut two hours ago."

This time I'm too stunned to feign dumbness. "What kind of retaliation blow? How can you be sure about something like that?"

"We know because there are moles within the Capitol", Finnick explains. Of course he knows. He's probably one of them. "As for the blow..."

He glances at Haymitch with something like apprehension on his features, and Haymitch runs a hand over his face in dismay. But it's Johanna who speaks up angrily, her voice breaking here and there due to her mistreated vocal cords.

"The Capitol knows about you being the new Mockingjay, thanks to your interview with Caesar Flickerman. And because of that, if you touch a single one of Snow's stinking hair, the Capitol will bomb District Twelve and burn it to the ground, killing everyone inside in the process."

* * *

**A/N:**** Hi everyone! I hope you enjoy this story. For my part, I'm at a crossroads. I enjoy writing this story and I want to continue it, as I have so many ideas to carry it on. But in truth, I'm rather discouraged by the lack of feedback. I don't know if you find this story interesting or not, and it's a little depressing. So I think that if I don't get enough feedback I'll just add one chapter to end this story nicely and that'll be it. Thanks for reading and please, please, please write a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I can't believe it. I _won't_ believe it. District Twelve bombed and burned down in retaliation? Beacuse of me? Surely they...

"I know", Seeder says quietly, breaking my train of thoughts. "It all seems far-fetched and unbelievable. But our sources are adamant. The orders come from Snow himself and will be carried out by his evil minister of justice, Regulus Scipio. In fact, Snow's already dying, and they know what you're about to do. At least", she adds seeing the devastation in me, "they're making a good guess. And they're planning on it. To have an excuse to wipe out an entire District to subdue the others."

This is just plain evil, I think desperately. Am I still a pawn in the Games, then? And what do these people want from me? I have to know. I address Haymitch.

"What do you want from me?"

"First", he exhales in obvious relief, "we'd like you to attend tonight's show and be crown victor like any other victor. Pretend you acted like you did in the interview out of sorrow and mourning. Maybe not jump around in glee, but at least stay impassive. It'll pass as shock."

I hesitate. There's a huge drawback in this plan. I'll have to stay alive after all, and that doesn't suit me at all. I need time to think about it, and I tell him so. But then...

"You said 'first'. What's second, then?"

Again he hesitates. And this time nobody speaks up for him. The other mentors look at everything but me, clearly ill-at-ease. Even Johanna who studies the wind chimes on the branches of the oak above us with a scowl.

"Second", Haymitch finally says, inhaling deeply, "we'd like you to join our cause. We'd like you to become the Mockingjay."

"What do you mean?" I ask him, nonplussed. "Become the Mockingjay?"

His voice, already low, drops to a whisper barely audible.

"The Mockingjay is the embodiment of the resistance, the voice of the rebellion. When seeing Katniss in the arena after Rue's death, we thought she would be the Mockingjay, but..."

I nod in dismay. Katniss, with her courage and her regal attitude would've been the perfect Mockingjay. I'm just the second choice, the only choice since the first died saving me. Another piece in another wicked Games, a larger one, but still.

And that's the end of it. I can't be their Mockingjay. Katniss was meant to be, not me. And even though I know she gave her life for me, I won't be able to take her place in this rebellion. I'm not strong like her. I'm not a survivor like her. And I'm definitely not anyone's pawn anymore.

I want to lash out in anger at them, tell them to go to fucking hell, but I can't. I feel myself crumpling yet again, hugging my sides and almost doubling over.

Haymitch reaches out but I stop him, not wanting anything more from him or anyone. "Don't!"

"Peeta", he says tentatively, "please, just—"

"No!", I cut him abruptly, my voice filled with barely controlled, furious and aching sobs. "No more of this shit! I won't be what you want me to be! I've been used already in these fucking Hunger Games, don't expect me to be anymore!"

"Peeta", Seeder starts, "we don't want to use you. On the contrary, we—"

"Enough!" I yell, covering my ears and retreating towards the door leading into the building. "Leave me alone! I said no!"

Finnick, looking mad, takes a step towards me but Haymitch grabs him by the shoulder, murmuring something too low for me to hear, shooting me an unhappy look. I don't care. I don't fucking care! He left me to die in the arena, for heaven's sake! And now he needs me!

I stomp back to my bedroom, ignoring and upsetting Effie, but I just don't care anymore. I throw myself on the bed, still sobbing my heart out, still shouting her name. "Katniss! Katniss!"

Nobody disturbs me, and it's fine by me. I'm too busy crying myself hoarse again, grieving for the love of my life. I'm supposed to attend the crowning ceremony in a couple hours, but I honestly don't know if I can face it. And now I know the Capitol is awaiting me to murder Snow so they can bomb District Twelve, I'm no longer eager to go.

So they stole everything from me, I think bitterly. My loved one, my reason to live, my innocence, my idea of revenge. I'm a lonely murderer with nothing to go back to in District Twelve except hate and pain and an empty life ahead of me. And I won't be used anymore.

As this last idea resonates in my head, something breaks in me again. My will to live and die for a purpose. I wanted to die a hero for the rebellion, killing Snow before being shot by Peacekeepers or lynched by the Capitol people. Even that I cannot do. I still care enough for the remaining people in my District not to trigger an awful retaliation on them, including my family, or at least my father and brothers. So I'll have to do it myself. I know I'm being monitored, it'll be tricky.

I take a look at my surroundings, calming enough to wipe away the tears blinding me without fresh ones to trouble my vision again. And I see them. Deep crimson curtains held with matching bits of embroidered rope and bobbles at each end. _Perfect_, I think.

I know I'll be stopped if I make my intentions clear, so I go for another wrecking fit. I tear everything down, breaking my bedpost, the lamps, the furniture, and of course the curtains. I surreptitiously pocket a rope while wailing and crashing porcelain under my feet, and I keep going for a long ten minutes more. During the fit I see Haymitch and Effie out of the corner of my eye in the doorway, but they don't stay. They gaze at me with pained looks on their faces, but I'm beyond their pity.

At last I slowly stop, pretending to feel weakened and tired by my outburst. I exit my bedroom, now a fresh havoc, and make my way to the roof, leaning forward as if burdened by anvils. I can barely make out Haymitch and Effie's muted voices from the sitting room, but I ignore them. I have nothing to say to them.

I step out in the fading daylight, taking another good view of the Capitol. Such a beautiful place, where so much evil roams freely. It's almost a personal insult for me. I take a good breath, inhaling the city, and make my way to the biggest tree on the roof. It's an oak, and its highest branches tower at twenty metres above ground.

Maybe I'm still spied at, so I start to climb the tree. I know I won't be able to have too much time from now on, and I didn't often climb, except our apple tree in the backyard of our bakery when my mother wasn't watching. But I climb as fast as I can, cutting my palms and breaking my nails. I don't care. I can't feel any pain except the gaping hole in my heart.

I stop when I'm ten metres up. Enough to give me time from Peacekeepers, or from Haymitch or his new friends. I quickly take out my rope. It's only a metre long, but it's enough. I make a noose and tie the end to the branch just above me. The noose is just large enough for my neck to go through, no rope left for me to dangle from. I don't care.

I can hear hurried footsteps coming from the building towards me, so I don't waste any time. The Capitol stole my life, they won't steal my death as well. I fasten the noose around my neck, take a last look at the setting sun, losing myself in its soft orange glow. On the ground below me someone yells, "He's up there! He's got a rope around his neck!"

Time's up, I dimly think. So I take a deep breath, ignoring the frantic swarming under my feet, only thinking of Katniss waiting for me, almost hearing her reassuring whisper in the rustling leaves around me, and I take a step forward.

* * *

A jolting sensation brings me out of my unconsciousness, and I gasp for air, frantically looking around me, taking in the somehow familiar surroundings. I'm lying on my back on a bed, and this puzzles me. I was hanging myself last I checked, and my hand shoots upwards to feel the rope digging in my flesh, crashing my larynx. But nothing. _How weird_, I think. Am I already dead? But then why am I sweating like mad, my heart hammering in my chest?

While trying to regain my bearings I take a better look around me. The room is huge, even larger than the one in the Training Center in the Capitol, scarcely furnished, with orange walls. Orange...

My mind, already on edge thanks to my failed suicide attempt, goes into overdrive. I remember now where I am. I'm in my room, in the house I've been given in Victor's Village in District Twelve, or rather what's left of it after the bombing. _But then_, I think slowly, realization dawning on me, _then it means that... that Katniss..._

A pair of footsteps echoing through my house stops my train of thoughts, and hope flares up in my fluttering heart. Maybe this was all a nightmare! Maybe she's here, alive and safe!

I hear a growl coming from down the stairs, and I recognize Haymitch's drunken voice. "… right about his alarming state, sweetheart, because I don't like being woken up at this time of day."

"For heaven's sake, Haymitch! It's past midday! And I told you he's unconscious! I can't wake him up!"

"Since when do you care about him, sweetheart? I bet it's the first time you leave that house of yours since you came back." Haymitch's sarcastic voice bounces off the walls of the staircase.

"Oh, damnit, Haymitch! He comes every morning to my house with fresh bread, but this morning nothing!" Katniss says, sounding anguished and panicked. "So one hour ago I came here to see if he was okay, and I found him on the floor of his bedroom, flailing around, screaming his head off, eyes rolling! I tell you he needs help!"

The door opens, and she stops talking as she walks in, followed by a disgruntled Haymitch. She looks worried out of her mind, she has dark circles under her eyes, her olive skin looks paler than usual, and yet she's never been more beautiful to me. As I take in her presence, relief and love flood through me, warming me to the bone, allowing me to breathe. She's here! She's safe! It was a nightmare!

"Peeta!" she shouts, running to me and taking my hand. "You're awake! Are you all right? I couldn't wake you, you were thrashing around and screaming in your sleep! I couldn't leave you and Haymitch wouldn't answer his damn phone! I..."

She trails off, obviously taking in my bewildered expression. And suddenly I can't hold off any longer. I get up, throwing away the quilt, and I take her in my arms. I kiss her urgently, passionately, not quite believing what's happening. She's alive! She's alive and safe and here!

At first she kisses me back, but after a few seconds she pulls away, looking stunned and flushed. "Peeta", she says, "I think you're not in your right mind. Are you all right?"

"I've never been more in my whole life", I say fervently, drinking her in, feeling so relieved and happy I'm starting to feel dizzy.

And two seconds later, my head starts spinning violently and my knees buckle under me. Katniss catches me with her firm grip, and Haymitch comes to help her putting me back on my bed.

"Peeta, what's wrong?" she asks me, frightened. "Just stay awake!"

"No problem", I whisper, my bed transforming into a rocking boat, making me queasy.

"You don't smell alcohol", Haymitch says, bending over me and appraising me. "What happened to you, kid?"

I rack my brains, trying to remember past my awful nightmare. What happened to me to make me so ill and dreaming such dreadful things? And then it starts coming back, bits by bits.

"It's this new treatment from the Capitol", I recall. "Dr Aurelius sent it to me. He thought it would help me fighting back the episodes. I swallowed it and after a few minutes I felt bone tired. So I went to my bedroom, but I don't remember anything else. Except my nightmare."

"What kind of nightmare?" Katniss asks, still holding my hand but clearly unaware of it.

"The horrible kind", I mutter, looking away from her, seeing her dead before my eyes. "The kind where you died in the arena for me."

Silence follows my words. I hear Haymitch leave the room, unusually quiet. Then Katniss sits on the bed by my side, tightening her grip on my hand.

"It explains the kiss. You believed me dead."

"It was so real", I explain, sitting up, shedding tears unshamefully, the pressure going down. "In my nightmare, you died after injecting me the cure in the cave, while I was out. I was desperate. I won the Games to avenge you, but after that there was nothing left for me. So I hung myself in a tree on the roof of the Training Center in the Capitol. I woke up right when I walked off the branch."

She squeezes my hand gently, and I can't resist anymore. The physical distance between us is too much for my wounded heart. Since I came back to District Twelve I've kept my distance with her, giving her time to heal as she sorely needed it. She was a wreck, worse than me, and she was slowly coming back to life. But now it's me who needs her.

I lean towards her and put my head on her shoulder, my cheeks wet, my chest heaving with sobs and fighting nausea. I'm trembling from head to toe, from cold and from dread. I don't want to lose her, ever.

She grabs my quilt and wraps it around us, and put an arm around my shoulders. After a few seconds, she kisses my forehead softly, like a feather on my skin.

"You're feverish", she says kindly. "You should lie down."

"No. I'm afraid to go to sleep."

I want her to stay with me, but I don't say it aloud. She needs space, and I've just kissed her. I don't want to suffer another rejection, but I'm so afraid of letting her out of my sight!

She squeezes me a little harder and says, "Lie down, Peeta. I'll lie down with you."

"You will?" I'm astonished, locking eyes with her and admiring her silver gaze and unusually understanding expression.

"Of course", she says with a small smile. "All you have to do is ask. It's not like I've never asked myself."

I stare at her with all my love, hoping she can see it, and I'm rewarded with her cheeks getting crimson. So I lie back down, and she helps me removing my prosthetic leg without a flinch. Then I ask, my voice not quite steady, "Katniss, will you stay with me?"

She lies down by my side, snuggling inside the crook of my arm, and we hug like never before.

"Always", she exhales in obvious satisfaction.

I sigh happily, hugging her a little tighter, and she surprises me even more. She starts to caress my chest and my face. I do the same on her arms, her hair, her neck, her face.

Pretty soon we're kissing like on the beach during the Quarter Quell, where I could've sworn she loved me. A powerful desire clenches my guts, and I feel myself harden against her. I love her so much it almost hurts. But it also heals my broken heart.

When we pull apart for air, we exchange a smile.

"Lucky Haymitch didn't stay", I tell her. She giggles, and the sound is like the bells of heaven.

We kiss some more, and then I ask her the question I've wanted to ask since our first kiss in the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

"You love me. Real or not real?"

She hesitates for a second, and I'm afraid she'll crumple back on herself. But then she sets her jaw, her eyes full of an emotion I've rarely seen on her, and she murmurs her answer in my ear before kissing me some more.

"Real."

And this time, with joy erupting throughout all my body, I know that this is not a nightmare, but my dearest dream come true.

* * *

**A/N:**** That's it, then! The end of this Everlark story. I set it during the last chapters of Mockingjay, as you probably noticed. I do hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for the readers who followed, favourited and/or reviewed! Feedback is always welcome, even years after the last update ;) **


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